


It's Just a Dream

by dearly_beloved



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-16 19:13:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9286037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearly_beloved/pseuds/dearly_beloved
Summary: Frank has this reoccurring nightmare...





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is going to string along just a few chapters, probably. It was just a little idea to keep writing and hopefully it's done soon. Going with a bit of creepy stuff, yeh.
> 
> To be honest, I am not completely sure about the rating yet. Just a warning, there could end up being graphic violence in upcoming chapters- violence is a theme, I'm just not sure if I will go into detail about it quite yet.
> 
> It is labeled as Frank/Jamia because they are married in this fic, and only Frank/Gerard because they were in a relationship in the past in this fic and that will be at the very least mentioned. Also not sure if there will be any action between them, just gonna see where this goes.
> 
> Enjoy!

Frank has this reoccurring nightmare.

 

            In this dream, everything goes as normal at first.  He lives out a day that is quite similar to his everyday life.  He wakes up, and has his morning coffee, he’s sure of that.  He must go into the studio, which is his work.  He knows he says hello to his wife when he returns home, he knows he eats dinner, and he knows he watches TV with her before she heads off to bed.  He follows not much later.  But has he walks down the hallway, things begin to change. 

 

            It’s like a shift in the atmosphere.  It’s as if the entire world goes infrared for a split second.  He wavers slightly on his feet, and a feeling of terror overwhelms his gut.  He begins to struggle for breath, not wanting to look ahead of himself at the bedroom, but he does, regardless.  Jamia is not asleep in bed, but standing at the entrance to the bedroom, holding the door open.  And she is, somehow, not herself.  Frank knows this.  Her eyes are devoid of life, and a soulless gaze stretches over Frank, who feels helplessly small as he presses forwards slowly, still moving unconsciously towards her, towards his own doom.

 

            He reaches the room after what feels like decades of being under and imposing gaze of death, and she settles onto the bed as he stands at the foot of it, feeling like a fish snatched out of water by a hawk.  He knows it is not his wife that sits at the edge of the bed, giving him a polite yet somehow threatening smile.  It is a demon, wearing the skin of his loved one.  It is a type of evil he has never come into contact with, a dangerous presence overpowering the still air.  He looks up to her, holding its gaze, and somehow, he knows what comes next.  He remembers it, all of the dreams from before somehow, but this time, it is not a dream.

 

            He suddenly turns sharply to the side.  They are not alone.  Gerard lingers on the other side of the room, standing behind the creature that’s pretending to be Jamia, and slightly off to the left.  He does not look innocent and shy as always, though, instead a serious and grim mask graces his face, and it looks horribly ugly on a man so kind.  Frank knows it is not Gerard either, but a similar monster.  The two of them haunt him, seeming to fill up all available space in the bedroom.  Frank takes a cautious step backwards, just as she speaks.

 

            “Frank, tell me, do you remember anything?”  The voice is not her own.  It is too reserved, too level, it is like she is a psychiatrist talking to a violent patient in a mental hospital.  No, more like a vet trying to calm a dog down before euthanizing it.  She is not afraid of Frank.  She feels sorry for him.

 

            But Frank has nowhere to run, he is well aware of that.  So he might as well stand his ground, and tell her the truth.

 

            “No,” he admits.  He feels like he should remember something else- why he is here, what all of this means.  He feels like he has probably stood in this very room, and relived the same day a thousand times over.  But no, he does not _remember_ it.  He holds only a vague impression of it.  _But_ , he thinks, _but_ , “But, I know what happens next.”

 

            “Interesting,” the thing says, cocking her head to the side and smiling blankly, “Very well then.”

 

            And then they go to grab him, and Frank loses his composure.

 

            “ _NO_!”  He yells as their hands grip his arms tightly, pulling frantically and trying desperately to come loose from their grip.  The struggle is violent, and he is barely able to pull free before pushing them off of him and bolting to the door.  He yanks it open roughly, feeling the two right on his heels as he flees from his room…

 

            Frank awakens slowly and peacefully, quite the contrary from what he’d expect of _that_ dream.  He must not have been even moving in his sleep, he notes, as Jamia still sleeps peacefully next to him, and the blankets pulled up around him are completely undisturbed.  He sighs deeply, letting his eyelids flutter closed momentarily.  He knows he can’t fall back to sleep, or else he’ll just end up in the same nightmare once again.  Is it still the middle of the night, or is it near morning?  He doesn’t know, and he feels a bit too lazy just to turn his head in order to look at the digital clock on his nightstand, drowsiness still keeping his mind slow and body feeling heavy.  He knows he has to get up soon, though, just to check the time or take a piss and then drink some water from the kitchen- if he gets his blood running a bit, he knows he’ll be awake long enough to be out of the loop from that nightmare.  _Just a bit longer,_ he thinks, _before getting out of bed_.  Feeling the comfort of the blankets, he waits just a bit, knowing in the back of his mind he can’t allow himself to fall back asleep, to fall back into that dream…

 

            Making a quick resolve, Frank pulls himself from the comfort of his bed, careful not to wake Jamia.  He stumbles in the vague direction of the door, waiting for his eyes to focus in the darkness.  But then suddenly, the atmosphere shifts again, bringing a sense of terror into his conscience.  Was that…?  He freezes suddenly, fear overtaking his senses.  No… he couldn’t have…

 

            He turns around suddenly, the room lightening drastically, and he sees them standing there again- both Jamia and Gerard, eyes devoid of light, his wife with her pleasant smile and old friend with his tense face, waiting for him…

 

            How did he let himself fall asleep again!?  _I need to wake up_ , Frank thinks, _I need to wake up._ He attempts to move his body, the body he knows holds this nightmare that exists in his mind, imagines himself twisting and convulsing frantically in his bed.  A part of him feels himself fall off of the bed, still wrapped in blankets, and he doesn’t care.  _Good,_ he thinks, _I need to wake up_.  But time after time again, he finds himself “awake” in bed, yet still carrying that strange, fuzzy feeling that only a dream holds.  And still filled with the same terror.  He knows he is not awake.

 

            _I need to wake up.  I need to wake up.  I NEED TO WAKE UP!_

            Frank finally awakes with a gasp, jolting upright in bed.  He did not, in fact, fall off of his bed- that was just another part of the dream.  Jamia stirs softly in her sleep, and he subconsciously scoots away from her ever-so-slightly, and then immediately feels guilty.  He knows that this is real life, and that he’s not dreaming any more, but just after waking up there’s always still this this paranoia that sticks to him like glue.  Sighing, and feeling the sweat all over his body cooling in the air, he finally turns to look at the clock.  It’s just about 6am.  Although he’s never been a morning person, Frank knows he had meant to get up in about 3 hours anyways.  Luckily, he’s feeling more awake this time after waking up from his _second_ nightmare, and this time he’s completely determined not to sleep for the rest of the morning.  As quietly as he can, he extracts himself from bed, heading towards the bathroom.

 

            After finally emptying his bladder and washing his hands, Frank finds himself staring in the mirror for a while.  The fogginess of waking up is still with him, and he rubs his eyes, looking over himself.  God, the fact that he hasn’t been sleeping really shows, in the deep shadows under his slightly bloodshot eyes.  The worst part about this lack of sleep, is he still feels almost in the grip of that fucking dream.  He feels the paranoia seeping into him again… What if it isn’t just a dream?  In the dream, he always lives out a perfectly normal day, and then at the end of the day, is when he’s confronted by _them_ and then they attempt to take him away.  They have never actually succeeding in doing such a thing- because Frank always wakes up, at that exact moment.  He fears the night he doesn’t wake up in time.

 

            For some reason, although he knows he’s never dreamt it before, Frank knows what would happen if they were able to capture him.  He’d be taken to somewhere unknown, strapped down to a table, and excruciatingly tortured until his death.  That would take hours, possibly days, of being cut apart piece by piece, screaming for mercy the entire time, in the depths or terror and panic.  Frank trembles just thinking of it, this horrible scene that is somehow buried deep in his mind, even though he’s certain he’s never experienced such a thing before, not even in dream-form. 

 

            But now he feels incredibly paranoid again, worried he may still be in a dream, although it doesn’t quite _feel_ like one.  He pinches himself roughly, then wrings his own hands together and looks himself in the eyes.  It all feels too real for a dream.  He repeats to himself quietly, looking into the mirror, “You’re not dreaming.  You’re not dreaming.  You’re not dreaming.  You’re awake.”

 

            Frank stops himself, chuckling softly.  Has he really gotten to the point of talking to himself in the mirror to convince himself that he’s not dreaming?  Jesus Christ, this has gotten bad.  Maybe he needs to go to the doctor to get meds or something.  He knew Gerard used to have night terrors as a kid- it could actually be a serious issue.  Frank himself had never struggled with nightmares or anything before, but this one was weird and reoccurring.  And plus, there’s always the possibility of some sort of mental illness coming out of nowhere in the later stages of life.  Yeah… if this kept up, maybe he’d have to actually tell someone.

 

 


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, this was very hard for me to write at first, not sure why. But hope it came out good!

Frank spends the next few hours in the living room, messing around on his guitar, before he feels comfortable and sane enough to go back to bed.  He rests for just about 30 minutes, getting some shut-eye but never really falling asleep, before his alarm goes off.  Jamia groans and turns over, and he feels grateful for the normal, non-possessed wife he has.  He kisses her on the forehead before getting out of bed, and she says nothing in response but smiles slightly, probably still mostly asleep.  He would be, too, if he hadn’t actually been awake for 3 hours already.  He decides to head to the kitchen to get the coffee maker going

 

            Later in the afternoon, Frank is once again covered in a thin sheen of sweat after working for hours in the studio.  Frank Iero andthe Patience is close to releasing their next record, after working tirelessly for almost two years.  Now they were just beginning to record, making an effort to perfect every song.  Frank had really put his heart into the music this time around.  He tries to put his all into everything he writes, but he feels like this time, he’s really succeeded.  He’s been recently looking forward to every day being a step closer to finishing the album.  They are so close that tomorrow, they’ll probably be deciding on album artwork, and soon enough they could decide on a release date and which tracks will be singles.  Still buzzing with anticipation, Frank leaves the room momentarily for a break, finding a bottle of ice-cold water in a cooler in the studio somewhere, and heading out to leave to building to maybe call Jamia since he feels like talking to her.

 

            But as he enters the hallway, Frank sees a familiar face he hasn’t seen in quite a while.

 

            “Gerard?  What are you doing here!?”  He says, smiling and trying to hide his shock, seeing his old friend and band mate standing awkwardly near the end of the hallway.

 

            “Hi, Frank,” Gerard says as Frank approaches, waving slightly.  The two hug.  Although it may have only been a few months since Frank’s seen Gerard last, it’s kind of weird now that Gerard is living on the other side of the country.  Plus, they used to be in a _band_ together- they’d see each other every day, they practically lived together.  It was weird hardly ever seeing someone anymore who used to be Frank’s best friend.  But, it was nice being visited every once in a while.  It was like a flashback into what life used to be.  Maybe things had changed for the better, but he did find himself missing what things were like, say, 10 years ago every once in a while.

 

            “And, to answer your question, I’m speaking at a Comicon in Edison tomorrow and thought I’d stop by,” Gerard continues, still smiling slyly. 

 

            Frank tried his best not to absolutely beam at the news, “Yeah?  That’s rad, man.  So, how’ve you been?  Like, how’re the comics and stuff going?”

 

            Gerard had been doing fantastic, as expected.  Although everyone knew that Frank lived solely for music, Gerard had a second passion, and that was comics.  He’d grown up dreaming about writing comics even more than he had fantasized about being a rock star, which may have sounded crazy to some people, but that was Gerard.  He’s had his run with fame and being under the spotlight, and it was amazing to him, but it was always clear to Frank that it wasn’t all he wanted, wasn’t all he dreamed of.  Frank was clearly born to be a musician, he couldn’t ever go long without being on stage, without putting all of his passion into music.  But Gerard was perfectly content with taking time away from the chaos of being in a band, instead putting all of his energy into writing. 

 

            Gerard stayed and hung out with the band in the studio that day, seeming excited to watch that creative process occur again, and more than happy just to stick around and watch.  By late afternoon, Frank and the other guys were ready to call it a day, packing up their things and getting ready to leave.  Gerard stuck around, talking to Frank.

 

            “Wow,” he said initially, still smiling like a little kid on Christmas, “That was amazing.  I mean, your new stuff is really good.”

 

            “Really?” said Frank, “Wow, thanks.”

 

            “Yeah.  And I was wondering… would you want to grab a cup of coffee or something after this?  To go catch up?”

 

            “Definitely,” said Frank, “I’ll just give Jamia a call and let her know I’ll be home a bit later than usual.”

 

            The two of them ended up going to a coffee place Frank really liked, in a decent area not far from where he lived.  Although New Jersey was given a bad rep, even by the former members of MCR themselves, not all of it was bad.  There is no state, or even city for that matter, that’s entirely bad.  There are always nice areas, whether it’s just one block, or even one restaurant that has a good, safe vibe.  This particular area they were in was a pretty nice downtown setting, a calm mood hanging over the evening air.

 

            They did talk about the past, of course.  About the days they spent together in My Chemical Romance.  Those were much different times, for sure.  Being on the road, young and full of ambition, was a disastrous way to live their lives.  It seems that hardly any band members had lived a life free of drugs and alcoholism, when it was all around them, all the time.  They reminisced of the days needing to shower outside and hardly being able to afford food on the road.  They were hard times, but they were good.  And although it was fun when they were young, it was good for things to change when both of them were in their mid-to-late 30’s.

 

            The two of them were joking about how terrifying it was living in that haunted house to create “The Black Parade” when a thought suddenly struck Frank.

 

            “Oh, by the way,” he said, watching Gerard sip coffee sitting across from him, “You used to have, er, nightmares back then, right?”

 

            “Yeah,” said Gerard, “It was fucking horrible.  Why?”

 

            “Uhm…” now that Frank had brought it up, he couldn’t really stop, “Well, I never had anything like that, like, you know, night terrors or whatever.  I had nightmares every once in a while.  But, now, it’s like.  I’ve been having them.  Really bad ones, every night.  I mean… you don’t have to feel bad for me or anything, but did anything help with that, for you?”

 

            Gerard looked at him thoughtfully, for a moment, “Umm, I ended up on meds for it, and that helped for a bit.  It just knocked me the fuck out and made be stop dreaming altogether, really.  But eventually it just kinda went away.  Why?  Is it that bad?”

 

            Frank shrugged, suddenly pretending to be very interested in his coffee cup, “Eh, it’s not too bad, it can just get kinda hard to sleep…”

 

            Gerard nodding, seeming to understand, still looking deep in thought.  “Yeah, I know that feeling.”  The two are silent for a bit.  And then, “Do you mind… me asking, um… what are the dreams about?”

 

            Frank almost tells him.  For a quick moment, he thinks it would be okay.  That Gerard would like, totally understand if his friend and former, pretty much boyfriend, just opened up and admitted to him that he has nightmares about Gerard and Frank’s own wife getting possessed (or something) and then teaming up to kill him, slowly.  Except it never gets to the killing him part.  He just _knows_ that’s what would happen.  Except, luckily, he decides against giving his friend all of those details.

 

            “Ah, no, I don’t really remember it anyways, I just wake up really terrified so I know I was dreaming,” he answers instead, which isn’t a complete lie.  He does wake up terrified.  But he’s terrified because he remembers the dream so well, that many times it feels like he’s _still_ dreaming.  But, once again, Gerard doesn’t particularly need to know that.

 

            Gerard nods, understanding Frank’s hesitancy to speak.  Gerard had always said he doesn’t remember his nightmares, so Frank assumed he’d just believe that Frank didn’t remember them either.  Or, Gerard had always remembered them as well, but just didn’t want to talk about it.  Either way, it was nice to drop the subject and move on to talking about Gerard’s comics he was working on instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued...


	3. Chapter Three

Frank and Jamia were busy putting the kids to bed that night when he got a phone call.  He hears his cell ringing from the kitchen.  Heading to the room, he picks it up, only to look at it with a confused expression as Gerard is calling him.  What could he want, now that it’s about 9pm?  The two had went their separate ways after coffee, Gerard heading off to his hotel, and Frank to his own house.  Could he be inviting Frank to see him speak as Comicon or something?  For some reason, that seemed slightly out of character to Frank.  If he was going to invite him, he probably would have done it earlier, when he was actually with Frank.  Maybe he forgot to?

 

            Deciding not to let it ring any longer, Frank swipes right to answer the call.

 

            “Hello?”

 

            “Hi, Frank,” it’s Gerard’s familiar voice on the other line, of course.  “So… this may sound weird, but I don’t know if I have a place to stay tonight anymore.”

 

            “Huh?  Why?” Frank asks.  He was certain Gerard had a hotel booked, and that he had been there for at least a few hours already.

 

            “Well, basically…  The room I’m in, the heater isn’t working.  They’ve sent some maintenance guys up to fix it.  I thought it would be a quick thing, but now it’s been, like, two hours and they still haven’t fixed it.  And there’s no other rooms left in the hotel.  So, I thought it would be easier just to stay with you guys for one night?  If you have an extra room, or just a couch of something…”

 

            “Oh!  No problem, of course!”  Frank says.  It was pretty odd, the situation Gerard was in.  But, travelling all over the world, Frank knows that accidents often happen with hotel rooms, and the place you’re staying overnight can fall through.  And he remembers crashing at friend’s houses all the time when he ended up with no place to stay.

 

            So Frank talked to Jamia about what had happened, and they decided Gerard could sleep on the living room couch, since unfortunately with three children they didn’t have a guest room to spare.  Gerard was over in about 30 minutes, a bit disheveled with the cold outside air.  At that time of winter, it was bearable to be outside in the daytime, but it made a lot of sense that Gerard wouldn’t be able to handle sleeping in a hotel room with no heater all night.  For Christ’s sake, the guy was even used to _California_ weather, which is the biggest difference from Jersey’s winters you could get.

 

            Luckily for Gerard, one of the couches actually happened to be a fold out bed, and Frank helped him set that up before saying goodnight and retiring to his own room.  The both of them had to go to sleep early that night anyways, with Gerard having his comic thing in the morning and Frank planning on heading to the studio for yet another day.  But of course, Frank got caught up in reading a book in the dim lamp light by his bed and stayed up for another few hours, until he was so exhausted he could hardly keep his eyes open.  Eventually, he decided it was time to close the book and actually get to sleep.  Yawning, he headed to the kitchen as quietly as he can manage, for a cup of water.

 

            He almost fucking screams when he sees Gerard standing in the hallway.

 

            “Jesus Christ,” he said, letting himself laugh a bit.  “You fucking scared me.”

 

            “Oh.” Said Gerard, blankly, “Did I?” He cocks his head to the side slightly, looking at Frank with level eyes.

 

            “Um…” said Frank, as he began to feel slightly uncomfortable.  Why was Gerard suddenly acting so weird?

 

            Gerard shrugs, taking a step closer to Frank, “I tend to have that effect on people sometimes.”  He raises his head, looking directly into Frank’s eyes.  Frank feels almost as if his brain is being invaded in some weird way, with that relentless gaze.  He resists the urge to take a step back.

 

            “Er, Gerard, are you okay?”  He says.  No, seriously, what the _fuck_ was wrong with him?  He feels himself begin sweating- this strange behavior, it’s a bit too much like what occurs in his dreams… No, he can’t think that way.  If he starts thinking like that, he’ll become paranoid.  Gerard’s just acting strangely to throw Frank off.  He used to do that all the time in the old days, right?

 

            Frank agrees with himself on that point, while his subconscious screams at him that no, Gerard never acted like _this.  Something is wrong._

            “Better than ever.”  Gerard finally replies, suddenly looking Frank up and down with an almost predatory look.

 

            _Okay,_ Frank thinks, _that was completely out of line._ Hastily, he tries to push past his friend.  But Gerard reaches out an arm to stop him, planting his hand firmly on Franks chest.

 

            “Uh-uh-uh, where do you think you’re going?”  Gerard says, looking down at Frank playfully.

 

            “Gerard,” Frank says through gritted teeth.  He would be yelling right now, but his voice is barely above a whisper, as he doesn’t want to wake the other inhabitants of the house, “Please quit this shit right now.  I’m not playing any fucking games.  Have you forgotten that we’re both married, and we’re about five feet where my _wife_ is sleeping in _my_ bed?”

 

            Gerard doesn’t reply.  Instead, he grabs Frank roughly by the hair, yanking the other man’s face to his own.

 

            Gerard’s mouth practically covers Frank’s, kissing him roughly and aggressive.  His tongue is forced into Frank’s mouth, trying to take in everything as his teeth scrape his lower lip.

 

            Frank pushes him roughly away, not saving any energy, and Gerard stumbles backwards, with a ridiculous smirk on his face as he wipes spit from his mouth. 

 

            “What the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing!?”  Frank says, doing everything he can to keep himself from yelling.  He’s certain his face is completely red at this point- he can feel the heat rising in his own cheeks- flushed with anger and embarrassment.  How the fuck could Gerard misread his behavior so horribly to think _that_ was what he wanted?  To cheat on his wife, in the very house where he lives with his fucking family?  Oh, Frank is just about ready to kick his friend right out into the cold (literally, it was very fucking cold outside).

 

            Then Gerard just laughs.  He doesn’t simply giggle or anything, either.  He is fulling laughing, almost keeling over with it in the hallway, leaning against the wall for support.

 

            “Gerard!”  Frank says.  What the fuck is wrong with him?  He’s going to wake the kids, attract Jamia’s attention- is he having a mental breakdown or some shit!?  “Shhhhh!”

 

            Then, faster than the blink of an eye, Gerard is done laughing and instead grabs Frank once again, by the shoulders this time, slamming him against the wall.  Frank feels the breath quickly leave his lungs with an “oof,” as he’s lifted up and brought face to face with those eyes… Gerard’s eyes, which have always been so soft and caring, now narrowed and menacing.  Frank feels his heartrate quicken, and he can hardly breathe as Gerard moves one of his arms to press down against his neck while the other still holds his shoulder down.  Frank’s eyes dart nervously between left and right.  That certainly was a very loud bang.  How was his wife not in the hallway yet?  How had his kids not woken up?

 

            “I know what you’re thinking,” Gerard whispered, still holding unyielding eye contact with Frank, “And the answer is that you’re already too far gone for them.”

 

            “G-Gerard…” Frank says, feeling himself trembling, hearing his own heartbeat pounding through his head.  “W-what are you-“

           

            Gerard scoffs, cutting him off, “ _Gerard?_ You still think it’s _him_ you’re talking to?  He hasn’t been around since your little coffee date.”

 

            Frank freezes. 

_“You…. scared me”… “I tend to have that effect on people….”_

_“…you’re already too far gone.”_

_“You still think it’s_ him _you’re talking to?”_

Frank feels his blood run cold.  Those horrible, hazel-green eyes are still like daggers on his own.

           

            “Am I… dreaming?”

 

            “You wish you were dreaming.”  Was his only answer as the door beside him was pulled open and he was shoved inside, into the darkness.

 

            Frank should have been pushed into Mile’s room.  That was, if it was still his house.  But instead, as he falls he comes into contact with cold, hard concrete rather than soft carpet.  There is no nightlight illuminating the room in a soft blue.  Instead, dim lighting shows the bare walls, and not much else.  And then there’s “Gerard”.  Slamming the door shut.  The door that was supposed to be a simple bedroom door, made of thin wood, now solid metal that clangs loudly as it comes into contact with the frame. 

 

            Frank blinks, slowly.  Is he dreaming?  It doesn’t feel like a dream.  Yes, he’s terrified, with the situation at hand, but that usual paranoia and terror present in a nightmare is absent.  His thoughts aren’t muddled and fuzzy- on the contrary, his adrenaline-filled mind is as sharp as ever.  And things aren’t going as they usually do in his dream.  In his dream, it’s both Gerard _and_ Jamia who are after him.  In his dream, he isn’t attacked in the hallway, he’s attacked in his bedroom.   And in that dream, he never ends up… _here_.

 

            Frank stands slowly, turning around.  He never did get here in his nightmare.  But it’s what he knew was going to happen.

 

            It was that room- the one he’d always knew he’d end up with, but had never quite been dragged to.  There is nothing but four blank walls, and a table there in the center.  The eerie, metal table, with fucking _chains_ on it, quite obviously meant for trapping a person.  Frank feels his stomach churn uncomfortably with nausea as he notices the subtle blood stains on the floor around the table.  So dark they are almost black at this point, but still there either way.

 

            And then Gerard had grabbed him as he’d been distracted, turning Frank around to face him once again.  Frank wants to cry as he notices the wicked smile the other’s face.  Then he feels something cold on his hand, and glances down to see “Gerard” sliding a knife slowly up his arm- the dull side of it, not cutting him but letting him know it is there.  The person who was once Gerard presses the tip of the knife softly to the exposed skin on Frank’s chest just beneath his neck, holding Frank’s chin in place as the other is paralyzed with fear.

 

            “Time’s up, Frankie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope ya liked it!! I will hopefully be writing more, slightly longer fics soon.


End file.
